


Sherlock Wayne

by Merlin_Marius



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Superman (Comics)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlin_Marius/pseuds/Merlin_Marius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My experiment into seeing what it would be like if John Watson was actually Clark Kent, and Sherlock Holmes was Bruce Wayne. I always thought their relationship was similar, with Superman being open to people about who he is, much like Watson's stories, and there really is no need to explain the comparisons between Batman and Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Wayne

Mornings around 221b Goth Street were very rarely dull. My flatmate, Sherlock Wayne, would often be awake before I, if indeed, he had even gone to sleep the night before. Most mornings he could be found in the living room, tinkering around with some new contraption that would be able to assist him in various deductions. However, one morning was far more rambunctious then our landlady, Mrs. Pennyworth, could bear. Just as I was about to enter the living room, she came tearing into the corridor into my arms.

‘You’ve got to stop him Mr Kent! He’s gone insane!’ she cried to me.

‘Whatever do you mean Mrs Pennyworth?’

I lifted my spectacles just above my gaze, and, while harnessing my ‘Röntgen' Vision, I could see Wayne hunched over the fire place, but no new contraption.

I turned back to Mrs. Pennyworth, and heard a loud yell from inside the living room. Mrs Pennyworth let out another cry and ran downstairs. I decided to go inside and confront my friend as to what he had done to our poor land lady.

I stepped through the door, and before I could say anything, Wayne hurled some small knife at my head. Before I could react, it turned around in mid air, and flew right back into his hand.

‘Ah, Kent. You are awake!’ Wayne cheerfully greeted me.

Regaining my complexion, I gave my long time associate a discerning look.

‘What an earth is the meaning of this? Not even 9 O’clock, and you’re scaring our landlady half to death! Where did you get that throwing knife anyway?'

Wayne smiled smugly to himself, and held out the knife to me.

‘Behold, my newest invention. The Batarang.’

I took it, begrudgingly, into my hands. It wasn’t a knife as I had first seen. Instead, it was a large metal boomerang, styled to look like a bat. There was a small hinge in the middle that allowed it to be folded in half.

Wayne took the Batarang back, and proceeded to give me a demonstration. Though he will deny it, it was very clear he liked to impress people with every new invention. And I must admit, very rarely was I unimpressed.

‘This ‘throwing knife’ as you called it earlier, is far more elegant than any shuriken. Like the oriental counterpart, it can be discreetly hidden on ones person.’

Wayne folded the ‘Batarang’, and slipped it between his shirt and black dressing gown.

‘And slide out for quick use.’

I barely blinked, and Wayne had it between his fingers, unfolded, ready to throw.

‘However, it is made for non lethal purposes. The side is dull, not sharp, so any throw that makes contact will strike, but not cut’

Wayne threw the batarang with ferocious might, and amazingly, it turned in mid air and came back to him.

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and grinned slightly, as he could see my eyes were open in wonder.

‘Would you like to try?’ He asked as he offered me the invention.

I took this ‘Batarang', and pulled my arm back. Just as I was about to hurl it in front of me, I remembered the rugby catastrophe we had suffered two months back.

‘Perhaps some other time, when there is more space,’ I said to my friend, as I handed it back to him.

Wayne sighed, ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right’, and he put the Batarang gently on the mantle piece.

‘But what on earth were you yelling about this morning?’ I asked as I took a seat on the sofa.

Wayne looked down at his slippers.

‘I was merely venting some of my frustration.’

‘On our landlady?’

‘She was merely collateral damage.’

‘Wayne, watch you say about that woman.’

Sherlock looked at me, realising what he had said.

‘You’re right, I will apologise. I’m just so bored!’

And with that loud cry, Wayne removed another Batarang from his gown, and hurled it at the wall like the other, though this one continued it’s trajectory and became stuck in the wall with a loud thud. Wayne began pacing the room, brooding as he would often do.

‘The local gangs have been keeping to themselves, they know that they cannot make any new deals, until either the head of the Falcones has arrived with new muscle, or they can gather some more for themselves, and they are having a hard time finding new recruits.’

‘No doubt word of the winged terror has drowned out any recruitment campaigns they have been driving to make.’ I quipped.

Sherlock smiled.

‘Yes, their superstitions have been a powerful ally in this masquerade. However their cowardly local leaders have merely been a warm up. With all the commotion you and I have been causing, it is merely a matter of time before Oswald Milverton will make a move, and then my friend, we will really have our work cut out for us.’

My brow creased as I saw Wayne look out the window over the city. He was a man of obsession, surely. This crusade he had began years ago had been all consuming. I had only known him for a few short months, but I could see this vendetta against organised crime was coming to an end. I had made it my mission to help him as much as I could, for I could not bear to see such a brilliant man lose himself in this insanity. Also, rather selfishly, I had hoped to find some meaning in my own existence. I glanced down at my pocket watch.

‘Hmm, we had better leave soon, otherwise we're going to miss the…'

I looked up, and of course, he was no longer by the window.

‘Blast!’ I exclaimed as I stood up in frustration. I took off my spectacles frantically and looked through the whole house. Sherlock was not getting the best of me again with his vanishing trick! However, after seeing Mrs Pennyworth calming down with a cup of tea with her husband in the kitchen, empty bedrooms, broom cupboard, hallways, staircase, I gave up. After putting my spectacles back, I turned around, and there was Wayne! Fully dressed in his favourite black attire.

‘You know, one day Wayne, you must tell me how you pull off those amazing vanishing acts on even me.’ I declared, defeated.

‘For the life of me Kent, I have no idea what you mean’ Wayne replied, languidly, as we left the living room.


End file.
